Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1)

by Paula Scott

  Roman tried to take her in his arms.

  “Please don’t touch me.”

  “Chica, let me hold you.” He tried again to enfold her in his embrace.

  “If you touch me . . . I won’t be able to . . .” She broke into sobs.

  Roman scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the road to the shade of a massive oak tree. He sat down holding her in his lap. “Please, little dove, do not cry. Your God will make everything right.”

  “I do not know if he will,” Rachel breathed between sobs.

  “He will,” Roman assured her.

  A rider approached on the road. A smile burst across Roman’s face when he recognized Steven in his felt hat. “You have returned, amigo!” he called, taking Rachel’s hand to lead her over to welcome Steven.

  Steven climbed down from his horse, hugged both Rachel and Roman, and then walked beside them as they proceeded toward the hacienda. “In Yerba Buena, everyone is talking about war. U.S. ships are in the harbor ready for battle. Dominic is preaching restraint to anyone who will listen.” Steven smiled, but his brown eyes were troubled.

  “So what brings you back to Rancho de los Robles so soon, amigo?”

  Steven looked at Rachel, and then returned his attention to Roman. “I have decided to return to New England. I was going to send a message of farewell, but the Lord made it clear to me that I should come in person to say goodbye to both of you.”

  Roman captured Rachel’s hand and pulled her closer to his side. “California is not safe for Americanos any longer. It is better for you in New England right now.”

  The thought of Steven in the hands of the likes of Lopez and Garcia chilled Roman’s blood. He could not escape the memory of those screams of the Yankee prisoners as they were tortured. The Americanos were surely dead now. “You should not be traveling alone,” he told Steven. “Not all Californios are honorable men. There are some in the province who are outlaws. They use the excuse of war to spread their evil.”

  “I did not see anyone as I traveled here.” Steven wiped sweat from his neck with his handkerchief. “The land I rode through was quiet and uncommonly beautiful.”

  “Castro’s soldiers are roaming the countryside. You are lucky not to have run into these troops.”

  “I don’t believe in luck. The Lord orders my steps. I have arrived here safely because it is the Lord’s will that I do so.”

  Roman envied Steven’s faith. Was it true God cared about a man’s steps enough to order them? He was grateful Steven had returned. Together, they could talk more about God. Roman had many questions.

  At the hacienda, Roman told Rachel, “Please tell Tia Josefa to have a feast prepared. We will celebrate Steven’s safe return.”

  “Steven, come with me. We will see to your horse together.”

  # # #

  At dinner that evening, the men ate with gusto while the women picked at their food. Isabella’s head remained bandaged. She ate only what Tia Josefa commanded her to consume. Isabella grieved terribly over her lost hen.

  Rachel pushed the food around her plate, taking small bites here and there, but eating hardly anything. Roman knew she grieved over Isabella and wondered if she felt saddened over Steven’s decision to return to Boston soon.

  He tried not to think about her feelings for Steven. The two appeared so chaste together Roman had almost convinced himself their relationship posed no threat to him at all. Maria did not appear hungry either. Roman knew Steven’s arrival without Dom greatly disappointed her.

  After they finished eating, with the women quietly listening, Roman asked Steven about the happenings in Yerba Buena.

  “The sloop of war, Portsmouth, rides at anchor in San Francisco Bay. Her commander, John Montgomery, is sending supplies up the Sacramento and Feather Rivers on the Portsmouth’s launches.” Roman could see Steven did not like giving such news. Both men knew what this meant. The American rebels in the north were now being supplied by the United States military.

  Roman asked Steven to walk with him out to the vineyard to continue their discussion of war without the ladies present. He did not want to frighten Rachel, his sisters, and Tia Josefa. War belonged to men, but women often suffered for it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “I do not trust the Protestant,” Sarita said as soon as the men walked out of earshot. “How do we know he is not a spy for the Americanos? Maybe he has come here to set a trap for Roman?”

  “He is not a spy,” Rachel said. “Steven has returned only to say good-bye. He’s going back to Boston.”

  Sarita laughed. “Are you so stupid you cannot see why Roman entertains the Yanquio? He is but using him to gather information for General Castro. I would not be surprised if Roman kills the Protestant before this war is over.”

  Tia Josefa stood up, waving her finger warningly at Sarita. “Do not talk this way,” she commanded. “Senõr Steven is our dear friend. God does not want us to fight with each other. He wants us to live together in harmony with the Americanos.”

  “I think God wants the Yankees to rule California,” Maria spoke up.

  “What is this my women speak of?” Tio Pedro demanded as he returned to the sala with a bottle of brandy.

  “I’m going to bed.” Maria jumped to her feet to leave the room.

  “Me too.” Isabella rushed after Maria, swooshing past Tio Pedro in a flurry of skirts.

  “You girls will say the rosary before bed,” Tia Josefa ordered.

  Avoiding Tio Pedro, Rachel followed the girls out of the sala.

  “Yes, Tia,” Maria called. “We will say our rosaries.”

  Sarita left the sala too. “Do not trust the Protestant,” she told Tio Pedro as she passed by.

  # # #

  “Just a moment,” Rachel called, laying aside her Bible and rising from the chair to walk over and open her bedroom door. When she saw who stood there her heart sank.

  “May I come in?”

  Rachel stepped aside without a word.

  Sarita rushed into the room. “Close the door. I do not want anyone else to hear what I must tell you.”

  Rachel hesitated, holding open the door in protest.

  “Close the door. It’s in your best interest,” Sarita assured her.

  Against her better instincts, Rachel complied. “What is it you have to say?”

  Sarita prowled the room, a wild look in her eyes. “I am pregnant. The baby I carry is not your father’s.”

  A sick feeling rose up in Rachel. Before Sarita spoke the words, she knew what her stepmother would say.

  “I carry Roman’s child. I am here because when Castro’s soldiers kill your father, Roman will take me for his wife. I do not know what Roman plans to do with you, but he knows I carry his child, and it is only his pride keeping us apart. Once your father is dead, Roman will marry me. I want to help you. Your Protestant friend is returning to Boston. I have brought money so you can sail home with him.”

  Sarita stopped pacing the room. She came to Rachel with a bag of coins. Smiling in sympathy, she pushed the sack into Rachel’s trembling hands. “Your fare for the ship.”

  Sarita circled the room once more. “I want you to know everything. The night you became betrothed, Roman returned to me. The only reason I married your father was because I thought Roman was dead. I allowed Tio Pedro and your father to force me into the marriage. They said a union would protect both our families. I should not have listened to these foolish old men. General Castro will destroy the Yanquios, and your father will die with the rest of the traitors in the north.”

  Rachel opened her door. “I have heard enough. Please leave.” She handed Sarita back the coins.

  Sarita laughed. “I will bear Roman a son, many sons who will kill every Americano who comes to California.” She snatched the coins from Rachel’s trembling hands.

  Her knuckles white on the door latch, Rachel waited for Sarita to depart. Her stepmother’s confession shocked and hurt her beyond measure. And she real
ized in that moment of heartbreak she truly loved Roman.

  “Please,” she requested again, this time more firmly. “Leave.”

  Sarita walked out the door. “Tohic will kill you,” she whispered with such venom Rachel was taken aback. Sarita turned down the hall and ran headlong into Roman.

  “Are you threatening Rachel?” Roman’s gaze seared Sarita.

  “I have told her the truth is all.”

  He looked over Sarita’s head to Rachel, still standing there holding the door open.

  “Is she telling the truth?” Everything in Rachel longed for him to say it wasn’t so.

  He took a deep breath. “I may have fathered the child,” he admitted.

  “Of course it is true!” Sarita put a hand on her expanding waistline.

  “Go to your room,” Roman commanded Sarita.

  “I carry your son. She doesn’t belong here. Make her leave.”

  “Go to your room,” he repeated more harshly.

  Sarita moved a short ways down the hall. When Roman stepped toward Rachel, she slammed the door in his face.

  “Open the door,” he insisted, knocking fiercely on the wood.

  She latched it.

  “Open the door, Rachel!”

  He beat on the door. “If you do not unlatch the door, I will break it down,” he threatened. “This door cannot stop me.”

  Fear and anger tangled inside of Rachel. She walked away from the door, and went and knelt beside her bed. Tears burned her eyes as she bowed her head.

  “If I come through this door by force, you will regret not opening it for me.”

  Even with the door closed, she could hear him raging in the hall. Let him rage. How could he have impregnated Sarita?

  “You are my betrothed!” he roared, kicking the door with all of his might. The wood exploded, splintering open, the broken door banging against the adobe wall.

  Rachel did not lift her head as Roman burst into the room.

  He strode over and lifted her to her feet. The tears on her face didn’t distract him. “Don’t ever lock me out of my own hacienda.” He kissed her roughly, possessively, before pushing her onto the bed.

  “You are full of the devil!” she cried. Fear coursed through her, but anger filled her as well. How dare he barge into her room and attack her. He was the one guilty of sin, not she. He had committed adultery with Sarita. A vile iniquity against God. An act that rent Rachel’s heart in two.

  He leaned over her, his arms braced on either side of the bed to keep her beneath him. “I have decided we will marry. Before I join Castro’s forces, you will become my wife. It is the only way to keep you safe.”

  “I will not marry you. You are an adulterer. Sarita carries your child. Get away from me. The two of you deserve each other.”

  Roman grabbed her wrists, pinning her to the bed. “You must listen to me! I do not want Sarita. I don’t even know if the child she carries is mine. You will marry me! It is the only way to protect you.”

  “The protection I need is protection from you. Let me go!” Rachel began to fight him with every fiber of her being. “Help me! Someone, please help me!” she screamed, struggling to escape him.

  “Be quiet,” he ordered. “You are my betrothed. You will listen to me!” He shook her on the bed in a fit of frustration.

  “Roman, stop,” Steven ordered from the doorway. Tio Pedro and Tia Josefa stood behind Steven, eyes wide in distress.

  “What is going on?” Tio Pedro bellowed. “Have you lost your mind, mi hijo?”

  Tia Josefa carried her rosary beads, furiously fingering the necklace.

  “You are a minister, Steven. You will marry us right now,” Roman announced, climbing off of Rachel.

  “Sarita carries his child. I will not marry him.” Rachel sat up on the bed, her hair tangled and torn from its pins, her face ashen.

  “Is this true, mi hijo?” Tio Pedro demanded.

  “Yes,” Sarita said, standing at the door behind Steven. “I will bear Roman a son come winter.”

  “Is this true? Does she carry your child?” Steven asked Roman. Steven was an anchor of calm in the midst of the chaos.

  Roman now appeared grief-stricken. Rachel felt the same way he looked. Shattered.

  Sarita smiled.

  “Is it true, Roman?” Tio Pedro asked.

  Ignoring his uncle, Roman stared at Steven, “It may be true.”

  “You cannot marry Rachel if Sarita carries your child,” Steven said gently.

  Roman nodded. A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye and trailed down his cheek. Rachel had never seen him look so defeated.

  Turning to Pedro, Steven said, “Senõr Pedro, please take Sarita back to her room.”

  Steven urged Tio Pedro out into the hall, pushing Sarita out of the room as well. Maria and Isabella scurried away from the broken door where they’d been listening in the hall.

  Steven returned to the room and shut the others out by closing the broken door as best he could.

  Rachel told Steven, “Tomorrow you will take me to Yerba Buena. I cannot stay here any longer, and I don’t know where my father is. I must return to New England with you.”

  “You are not leaving.” Roman clenched his fists. His face hardened once more. “It is too dangerous away from the hacienda. California is at war, and you are an Americana. There are men out there who would hurt you. They would kill Steven.”

  Rachel got off the bed, shaking out her skirts in determination. “I am leaving, Roman. You no longer have any say in what I do.”

  He spun around and punched the broken door. It banged against the wall again, splintering further.

  “Easy, Roman,” Steven said. “Do not give in to anger. Let Jesus lead you through this storm, my friend.”

  Roman turned to Steven. “Maybe she wants to marry you. Perhaps she has always wanted you, amigo.”

  “Rachel has just learned you have been unfaithful in your betrothal agreement. She is upset. As you would be if she had done this to you. Come, we will walk and talk in the vineyard.” Steven motioned for Roman to follow him out the door.

  Once they were gone, Rachel fell apart. Somewhere along the way, she’d come to count on Roman. To trust in his strength. To surrender to his passion. She saw him struggling to know Christ. He read Steven’s Bible every day now. She had begun to think perhaps they could build a life together. She collapsed on the bed and sobbed.

  Never had someone made her feel the way Roman did. She cared deeply for Steven, but Steven did not fill her with longing. She didn’t want Steven to hold her, to kiss her. When Roman touched her, it was all she could do not lose herself in him. Being in his arms thrilled her. She hungered for his company. The realization that Sarita might carry his child sickened her beyond belief.

  Tia Josefa soon returned to comfort her. “I know Roman,” she said. “He no longer cares for Sarita. He loves you, chica. You have softened his heart. Do not break it now.”

  “I cannot marry an adulterer,” Rachel told Tia Josefa. “He has been with my stepmother. This is an abomination in the eyes of God.”

  “God’s eyes are merciful.” Tia Josefa held up her rosary, showing Rachel the crucifix. “It is the cross that brings us mercy. Lean on the cross, mi hija.”

  PART FOUR

  “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

  I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff,

  they comfort me. Psalm 23:4

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “If you are meant to marry Rachel,” Steven assured Roman, “the Lord will bring it to pass. Right now, you must work through this ordeal with Sarita. If she carries your child, you must stand by her. You must accept this child and the mother as well.”

  “I know you are right,” Roman agreed as they walked through the vineyard under a blanket of the stars. “I have been so blind. How could I not see Sarita for what she was? Even after she married another man, I could not keep her at bay. She c
ame to me when I was drunk and wanting revenge against her husband. I see how wicked we both were to do such a thing. I am sorry for my sins with Sarita. My sins with other women. My sins with Rachel. Though she was untouched, I wanted Rachel for my woman. I have never taken no for an answer in all my life. I take what I want, thinking only of myself. I have been my own god. I deserve God’s punishment.”

  “God doesn’t always have to punish us. We are often punished by our own sins. The consequences of our actions bring us suffering. You have confessed your sins to me. You must also confess these sins to God. I will pray for forgiveness for you and that your suffering is borne in the light of the Lord’s great love for you.”

  Roman stopped walking. He took Steven by the shoulders. “I want you to marry Rachel. You are the kind of man she deserves.”

  Steven’s smile was full of sadness. “I would like that very much,” he admitted. “But perhaps, like Paul, it is better I do not marry.”

  “Who is Paul?” Roman released his hold on Steven and took a deep breath. He was so tired of fighting everyone and everything. Most of all, he was tired of fighting God.

  “Saint Paul wrote many letters in the Bible. He was converted after watching another saint put to death. I am named for this saint.” Steven smiled.

  Roman looked at his dear face, feeling unease sweep over him. He worried for Steven’s safety. Steven was such a peaceful man, but California was not peaceful.

  “When we give our troubles to Jesus, he will make all things right,” said Steven. “If Sarita is lying about the child, this too will be brought into the light. Wait and pray, Roman.” Steven put his hand on Roman’s shoulder, looking with great affection into his eyes. “You will know Jesus, my friend. The Lord has promised me you will know him well.”

  # # #

  “This child you carry better be mine,” Roman warned Sarita the next morning out in the stables. “If you are deceiving me, God will deal with you.”

  “I swear it’s yours. I know you want sons. I will give you sons. I will. . .”